


walking these streets like a skeleton

by albypotter



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: M/M, Trans Scorpius Malfoy, just boys being soft and in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-17
Updated: 2019-09-17
Packaged: 2020-10-20 06:49:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20671076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/albypotter/pseuds/albypotter
Summary: “Are you sure?”Scorpius thinks of soft smiles and kind eyes and terrible jokes, of stories and secrets and the way the world always seems less bad when his best friend is by his side.“I’m certain.”





	walking these streets like a skeleton

**Author's Note:**

> title from the 411 by bears in trees. i wrote this at fuck o’clock in the morning so there’s probably typos. anyway i adore trans scorpius and this just kind of appeared in my head at 1am and wouldn’t leave me alone so here :)

He doesn’t want people to know. They do, of course, everyone knows, because he comes to the realisation in the middle of the school year and the next evening the stairs to his dorm just won’t let him through. He tries, he reasons, he begs in the night time quiet of the common room, and eventually he admits to himself that he knows it’s futile, gives up and curls up on the couch by the fire to sleep. He even has to ask Christie Boyd to pack up all his things, because he can’t do it. He can’t get through at all. Because he finally knows that he’s not a girl any more. 

He’s given the spare bed in the same dorm as the Potter boy, the one who never talks. The others are cautious and suspicious and try to pretend that they don’t stare when he turns his back, but he knows they do anyway. They ask his name, and he says in a wavering voice, "_Scorpius_."

The Potter boy - Albus, he introduces himself - is quietly kind to him, and it means more that Scorpius can express at a time when everyone seems to be turning away from him. Albus smiles when they’re the last two to be paired up in class projects and makes him laugh in the library as they work, and when they’re shushed he laughs louder. He sneaks food from the kitchens down to the dorms on days when Scorpius’s body feels too foreign and wrong to be seen by anyone else, and they sit cross legged on his bed and eat and Albus tells him stories of his brother’s crazy adventures and waves his arms so much that he loses his balance and topples over. He reminds Scorpius throughout the day (gently, quickly, so that no one overhears) to breathe deep, to cough the fluid build up out of his lungs, to take breaks in the bathroom when he can. Scorpius thinks that if he didn’t have Albus, his ribs would surely have collapsed by now.

It hurts to watch. Albus has always been bubbly and sweet and thoughtful; maybe he hid it for a while, but Scorpius knows it, and now everyone else is learning it as well. Albus stops to chat with his new friends in the corridors, and Scorpius does his best to fade into the brickwork, because he can’t join in. His voice is too high, his face too round for anyone to look at him and truly, immediately think _boy_. Albus might notice, but he never pushes it. His wordless understanding and acceptance is what Scorpius loves about him. He can’t talk about these things, his throat blocks the words out because they’re just too awful to bear, but somehow Albus always knows what Scorpius is trying to tell him.

Scorpius does his best, but he’s not a perfect person. Seeing Albus friendly, outgoing, popular makes something like jealousy burn cold in Scorpius’s heart. He wants to be close to Albus, closer than anyone else could ever be. Sometimes he even thinks he wants to _be_ Albus, because he’s something that Scorpius wants so badly, but can never completely attain. Sometimes he wants so badly it hurts. He wonders, as he trails through the midnight corridors, how to express this in words that won’t make him sound crazy. He’s never needed many words with Albus before, but this idea is new and strange and it scares him. Then again, he’s survived scarier things before.

"Al." The nickname is sweet on his tongue. 

"Hey," Albus replies, and he’s already watching Scorpius intently from across the bed they’re sitting on. They communicate through glances and broken phrases so often, but Scorpius is being brave. He’s trying something different.

"Do you ever think about how saying one little thing could change your whole life?"

"Yes," Albus says, without hesitation. There’s something strange in his face and the way his hands mess with the sheets. It’s familiar somehow, too. 

"I think I need to say something like that now," Scorpius says, and then there’s no going back. He wants to go back.

"I think I’m maybe... I’m."

He can’t say it. The deep brown of Albus’s eyes feels like something warm that he just wants to drown in.

"I think I’m maybe a little bit in love with you."

"Are you sure?"

Scorpius thinks of soft smiles and kind eyes and terrible jokes, of stories and secrets and the way the world always seems less bad when his best friend is by his side.

"I’m certain."

"Good," Albus says, and then he pounces. Scorpius is shoved back onto the pillows, breath knocked out of him, but none of it matters because Albus is pinning his wrists above his head and kissing him for the first time and finally, _finally_ he feels complete. He feels like this is who he’s supposed to be.

"Al," he says, breathless in the best way, because apparently Albus wants to take full advantage of the fact that they’re alone right now, and he’s tugging at Scorpius’s shirt and sliding his hands under it. Albus’s fingers are gentle on his bare skin and the shock that runs through his body is enough to make him gasp. "Al, not now."

Albus withdraws his hands and pulls his attention back to Scorpius’s mouth. His lips are hot and soft, and just knowing that Albus wants this too is more than enough for Scorpius to feel like his heart is going to burst out through his chest. He runs his hands through Albus’s thick black curls, pulling his head down so he can press his mouth to the curve of Albus’s neck. He leaves his mark there, on the deep brown expanse of Albus’s skin, and thinks, _mine. I’m so glad you want to be mine_. And when Albus bites down to mark him too, his soul thrills like a songbird in the soft evening glow.

They stay that way, wrapped around each other, gentle and joyful, until the others return. And if anyone notices anything - well, it doesn’t matter. They have everything they want in that moment. They have everything they want in each other.


End file.
